Seeing Through the Heart
by P.P.S
Summary: Some people make quick judgements by the quality of someone's clothes, the place they live or the color of their skin. Your eyes can see that differeance, but your heart can't. This is a story about Boots (only older and more mature).


Seeing Through the Heart written by Polecat  
  
Disclaimer: The part from the song "I Believe" belongs to Blessed Union of Souls, the newsie belongs to Disney.  
  
My note: This is a Boots fic, only he's a little older and more mature in this one. This will contain the prejudice thoughts of a man, so I'll warn you. I'll also say, prejudices sucks. If we were all turned inside out, not only would we be really disgusting looking, but pink too. Yeah, ALL of us would be pink. But won't get into a whole big lecture here ('cause I could).   
  
Also, I replaced the "N" word with "brother," it's the way you hear it on the radio.  
  
  
**I've been seeing Lisa now for a little over a year  
She said she's never been so happy but Lisa lives in fear  
That one day daddy's gonna find out she's in love  
With a brother from the streets  
Oh how he would lose it then but she's still here with me  
'Cause she believes that love will see it through  
And one day he'll understand  
And he'll see me as a person not just a black man**  
  
  
Lisa McKellen has to be the most beautiful girl in the world. She's not too tall and very much underweight, her copper red hair is thin and hangs loose. Her eyes are large and green, her face littered with tan freckles and her front teeth parted by a large gap.  
  
But Lisa never looks at someone from the outside, she goes right for the inside. She doesn't care if your Jewish or Russian, or if you have blue eyes or red hair or olive skin. She doesn't care if your Brooklyn accent is thick or that you barely speak a word of English. She doesn't even care if you're a scholar or can't even write your own name.  
  
Lisa looks from the inside out, which is probably why she fell in love with me.  
  
Her family would never approve, especially not her father. She comes from a good Christian family immigrated form Ireland. Her mother is a seamstress as well as her two older sisters. Her father works hard as a steel worker. Lisa attends school, her family wants her to go on to college.  
  
We met on the streets, she was bustling buy and I was pitching my con to her so she'd buy a newspaper. She refused plenty of times but I persisted, they always give in if you do. And sure enough she did.  
  
She gave me the money and I gave her the newspaper, our business was done. Only she just stood there looking at me. Finally I asked her what she wanted, she asked me if I always let people short change me. I didn't know what she meant. She filled me in by letting me know she only paid me half of what I said the price of the paper was. I didn't know she gypped me, I saw the coins and just put them in my pocket. I never count my money for the simple reason that I can't count very well. And I don't know why I did it, but that's what I told Lisa.  
  
She tutored me then, taught me how to read and write as well. I wasn't very good at it, but at lease I could recognize my own name. I never found her beautiful, and I don't think she ever found me very attractive. But what I saw shining through from Lisa --her spirit, her will, her kindness-- made me fall in love. She told me the same.  
  
That was all a year ago, it doesn't really seem like it's been that long. I'm in love with her and I know she feels the same about me. We've never been allowed much time together though, with her schooling, my schedule around paper editions and the fact she has to hide her relationship with me from her family.  
  
It's alright though, I understand and I know her fear.  
  
That fear that lead to her sneaking out at night. That fear that lead to her father's accusations. The fear that caused him to follow her out one night for a rendezvous with me.  
  
Neither of us ever saw him. Never saw him peeking out from behind a cluster of bushes. Never saw him until he bowled me over.  
  
I don't know where he got the club from, maybe he brought it with him. I don't remember much, it all happened in one fast blur. I remember the pain as the club came down on my back, my head, shattering my knee. I remember his words, words filled with such anger and hatred. Those awful, foul words.  
  
'You bastard! Don't you ever touch my daughter!'  
That was the blow that broke my knee.  
'Filthy piece of trash!'  
Blow one to the head.  
'Dirty black bastard! I'll kill you!'  
That was the blow to the head that did it. I never felt such a pain before; white, blinding pain.  
I could hear Lisa crying, but I couldn't see her. As a matter of fact, I couldn't see anything.  
  
I think he might of kicked me a couple of times after that, I'm not real sure, I couldn't feel much of anything. I tried to turn to see Lisa, I wanted to see her face, see her beautiful spirit shining through. I wanted the girl I loved to be the last thing I ever saw.  
  
Everyday Lisa stops at the cemetery I was buried in. Nothing marks it but a poorly built cross. She cries and leaves me a flower. She cries and tells me she misses me. She cries and tells me she loves me.  
  
Lisa's so beautiful, she always believes the most important thing in life is love. She always believes that love can win a war, stop a fight and cure the sick. She's the most beautiful thing on heaven and earth.  
  
She cries and tells me she's sorry that this place -over crowded lot for the poor and homeless- has to be my final resting place. She's wrong, my final resting place is in the heart of the woman I love.  
  
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Ummm... I dunno where this came from. One minute I'm browsing the 'net, the next this fic is intruding into my head. Please review and tell me what you think.  
  
And thanks to my Mom who tried for half an hour to give me a title for this story. At first I used her's (Love Know No Color) then I came up with the one I used now. I dunno which is better, I just kinda liked the second one a little bit more. 


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